Details
by kiista
Summary: This is a sequel to 'Hangover.' It is time for Diego and Victoria to navigate a new world. Finding the right words isn't going to be easy.
1. Thine Be the Gladness

**Details**

A/N: I couldn't just leave things as they were! Everyone will want to know what happens the next morning, right?

* * *

><p>It was nearly noon by the time Diego emerged from his room. Though he was accustomed to being without sleep at night, he was not as familiar with the effects of so much wine. He had lain in bed for some time trying to sort the details of the previous day, and it had taken more effort than usual to move his sore body from the soft bed. Firstly, he'd been buried under a pile of rocks the day before; the wound on his sabre arm still sent arcing pains through his shoulder with nearly every movement; and finally, the wine that he had drunk had left with him a resounding headache. The sleep had helped, and the concoction from his university days had helped, but he still moved slowly. And those were just the afflictions plaguing his body. The events of the past weeks were enough to weigh him down heavily, but the events of last night were unspeakably wonderful. Someday he would allow himself the luxury of considering all the events carefully, perhaps even taking the time to write them down. He couldn't allow himself that luxury today. Today, he had to face his father's certain barrage of questions with a splitting headache. He would in every way prefer a sword fight to his father's incessant questioning, even with the nasty wound on his arm. <em>The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, indeed. <em>

Victoria's location and condition were at the forefront of his mind as he slipped from his bedroom.

Victoria sat at the dining room table, dressed in the same clothes she'd worn the night before, with her forehead propped in the palm of her hand. A cup of coffee sat on a saucer in front of her. The table was set for four, but hers was the only occupied seat. _Father and Felipe are still asleep, then, _mused Diego. As his eyes took in her slender wrists, her bare shoulders, and the curve of her neck, his heart began to pound. While he had lain in bed dreading his father, he had given little thought to what he would say to Victoria. How do you meet someone in the light of day after a night like they'd had together? As Zorro, he did not encounter these kinds of situations, and as Diego, he never gave himself the opportunity. Avoidance was a key tactic in nearly all of Zorro's plots, and meek Diego managed his dull life with enough social grace to keep from nearly all awkward encounters, so there was nothing in his experience to call upon. _I must stop thinking of myself as two people_, he noted. _The duality of the soul is impossible to maintain. _

Diego approached the table and reached for the carafe of coffee to pour a cup for himself. Victoria looked up in surprise.

"Good morning," he said, softly. She looked up at him, smiled, and lifted an immense weight from his chest.

"Good morning," she returned, softly. "I didn't hear you."

Diego moved to his seat and pulled out his chair. "I also excel at stealth," he said with a wry smile. Victoria smiled. This new Diego, a blend of two such contrary men, was pleasing. He had Zorro's wit with Diego's easy manner. It was difficult to have much conversation with him when he wore a mask, since the encounters were so fleeting. Here he was, unmasked, smiling, having his morning coffee with her. It was an impossible, beautiful dream come true.

"Did you sleep?" she asked. It seemed a strange question to be asking, but he realized she meant that she was asking if he had ridden as Zorro last night. No one ever asked him that.

Diego smiled. "I did. Fairly well, I think, thanks to the wine. But I am less thankful this morning. And you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he took a long drink of coffee.

Victoria rubbed her forehead again. "I slept, yes. But I also have no good things to say about wine this morning. Perhaps no good things about it ever again." She took a drink from her cup and winced. Diego nodded sympathetically. They sat in silence for a moment, drinking coffee. Diego's mind raced. Should he say something about last night? Ought he apologize for his behavior? Now would be the time to do so, but he could not form the words. He also knew that the very walls were likely straining to hear their every word-either his father, Felipe, or the servants-and he would prefer to keep the conversation at the table free from gossip fodder. He would have to speak in generalities and hope that she would know what he meant.

"What did you think of the poetry last night?" he asked as he reached for the carafe to refill his cup. He gave her a knowing look. _I don't really mean the book._

Victoria opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it. She glanced toward the door that lead to the kitchen. "It was lovely. It. . . it was the best poetry I have ever known." She smiled as she raised the cup to her lips.

_What a clever woman, _thought Diego. She had read the situation instantly. He raised one eyebrow. She smiled over the rim of the coffee cup, and he felt his heart race again. The Fox had met his match. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, smiling. Headache, sore body, an arm that must be rehabilitated, all of it be damned! Victoria was _his._

Just then, footsteps in the hallway made them both turn their heads, and Don Alejandro appeared, looking slightly disheveled. His usually confident stride seemed to have slowed to a leisurely amble. He paused by the doorway when he saw the two of them seated.

"Did you never go to bed?" he asked, incredulous. Diego saw Victoria's eyes widen slightly, wondering what he knew. "This is where I left you last night." Diego saw her realize that he was attempting to make a joke, and her face instantly softened.

"Good morning, Don Alejandro. I slept very well, thank you," said Victoria with almost as much cheer as she could have mustered without a headache.

"Well, that makes two of us, then. I can't remember the last time I slept so late. It was that blasted cava. Maria!" Don Alejandro called toward the kitchen. The door opened, instantly, and as Diego had suspected she'd been listening on the other side. She looked with disapproval at all of them and gave a chiding shake of her head. She had known that the cava would give them all headaches and make them feel unwell in the morning, but Don Alejandro had called for it. Victoria lowered her head and pretended to be interested in the pattern on the china.

Don Alejandro rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Maria, eggs and tortillas, _por favor. _And send someone to see if Felipe has been up." The older don shook his head and pointed at Diego. "I am certain that young boy has never felt the way he is going to feel this morning." Don Diego raised his cup of coffee in assent. Maria swept back into the kitchen and began to bang pans onto the stove.

Don Alejandro took a long drink of coffee, and then seemed to remember something. He set down his cup abruptly and looked at Diego. Diego felt a knot of anxiety forming. _Please, Father, have enough sense to keep your questions quiet now. _All of the reasons for keeping his identity secret for the last four years came to mind. The house was full and busy in the morning, far busier than at night, and the chances of being overhead were much greater. Diego hoped that his father was half as receptive to his unspoken plea as Victoria had been.

"Ynez Risendo!" said Don Alejandro forcefully. He slapped his hand on the table. "That awful woman. I have some letters-_many_ letters-to write regarding her, and I want you to read them before the afternoon stage comes for the mail." He pointed an accusing finger at no one seated at the table before continuing. "The day that woman is ever received by any family is Spain again will be a cold, cold day in-"

"Father," said Diego reproachfully. Victoria took a drink of coffee and looked out toward the parlor. Don Alejandro relented and took a drink of coffee himself instead of finishing his sentence. Diego cleared his throat. "I will be happy to read over your letters before you send them." Diego the scholar, the diplomat.

Don Alejandro nodded curtly and rubbed his forehead again, muttering something about blasted cava. Victoria pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and sat motionless. If she was very still and didn't speak, the pounding in her head was tolerable. She could hear the ticking of the clock and the sounds from the kitchen. Diego regarded them both from his seat at the end of the table for a long while before speaking.

"I have a proposal," he began, and then immediately regretted the choice of words. Both Victoria and his father gave him startled looks. Diego quickly recovered, "A modest one," lest they think he was about to set a wedding date with Victoria. Don Alejandro leaned forward in his chair expectantly. Diego continued, choosing his words carefully, "The events of yesterday have left us with so many questions. It might be prudent to. . . go slowly as we make decisions today."

Victoria frowned. _What did he mean by that? Is he talking about Risendo, or that awful woman Ynez? Was he talking about me? Does he mean Zorro?_ This constant doublespeak was exhausting and even more difficult to unravel with a pounding head. Victoria, with growing sympathy, realized how complex Diego's life was.

Don Alejandro tipped his head back and regarded his son for a moment before answering. "Of course, yes. There are many questions. As a man of action myself it is good to have a reminder to be. . . cautious." The older don took a drink from his coffee cup and and nodded. He, too, was able to practice doublespeak for the benefit of the servants, especially when he was not under the influence of wine. "I'll take consideration before writing those letters." He regarded his son with seriousness for a moment and something passed between them that Victoria didn't understand. _They have their own language and way of doing things that I do not understand, _she thought.

There was a knock on the door then and a bustle of activity as a young male servant answered it. He approached Don Alejandro, apologetically, and told him that the _vaqueros_ from the south pass had seen cattle rustlers during the night. Don Alejandro nodded and pushed himself up from the table.

"Excuse me, Victoria, I will return momentarily." Victoria nodded her assent and watched the older don hurry toward the door to address the group of men in dusty boots and ponchos.

"How do they know the people were cattle rustlers?" Victoria asked Diego, softly, after Don Alejandro was out of earshot. The world of the de la Vegas was full of mysteries to her, problems that she had never known. With so much wealth, they had more to lose, and many people depended on them. And with the responsibility came violations of privacy that felt unimaginable to her: Servants listening at the doors, full of curiosity and gossip, requiring one to walk quietly and close doors in your own home! It was another world, one that she had only visited before, but one that more real than ever before after last night. That Diego could navigate it so deftly was a wonder to her.

Diego cleared his throat. "It would be unusual for anyone to be driving cattle this time of year, so that alone is suspicious. Probably they saw that the cattle all had different brands, which is a sure sign of thievery." He rubbed his forehead with his hand and sighed. Victoria watched him, wondering what it would mean for him as the son of the _patron_. _Would he be expected to ride out with the vaqueros to see for himself?_ And then another thought quickly followed: _Would Zorro ride? _Victoria pondered that for a moment, thinking of all the times the masked man had appeared at auspicious times. Diego, being wealthy and having access to a large staff, would surely hear all the gossip and problems of the community one way or another, having access in ways that a reclusive bandit never would. _Of course the fox didn't live alone in a cave. Of course he was well-connected. _ Victoria chided herself again for her foolish blindness. Now that she knew the truth, it was impossible to not see the resemblance or the obviousness of it all.

The door to the kitchen swung open and Maria appeared with a tray laden with fried eggs, cold _carne asada_, tortillas, and a bowl of oranges. She seemed unconcerned that Don Alejandro had vacated his seat; perhaps he was disturbed by hacienda business at all hours of the day. Victoria realized that she had no idea what it took to manage a large hacienda. The de la Vegas made it seem effortless, but surely there was always something requiring their attention.

Maria placed the tray between Victoria and Diego without comment and reached for the empty carafe. "_Gracias, _Maria," said Diego as he reached for a tortilla. She nodded and returned to the kitchen. Victoria noticed her unusually cool demeanor, and a prick of fear quickly blossomed into dread in the pit of her stomach.

"Diego," whispered Victoria, "is it possible that she-"

Diego raised an eyebrow and shook his head quickly, warning Victoria not to finish her sentence. Victoria looked toward the closed kitchen door with unease, but didn't say more. She reached for an orange, which was the only food on the table that was remotely appealing to her. She tried to cover the awkwardness of the moment with a forced smile and a new topic.

"I will need to return to the tavern soon. I am certain Pilar and the girls will be furious with me for being so late." Her slender fingers pulled the peel from the orange in pieces, and the sweet citrus scent filled the space between them. "It is nearly _siesta_ already, and here I am still at the de la Vega hacienda." She pulled a section from the orange and bit it in half. Diego watched her over a forkful of eggs.

"Yes," he agreed thoughtfully. "Here you are." It was the most ordinary of moments; two people at a table, sharing a meal. But things would never again be ordinary between them. He put down his fork and crossed his arms. Diego regarded her quietly for a moment, and then he did something that made her heart pick up its pace. He stood from his chair and leaned toward her, his voice deep and softer than a whisper. "Come and meet Zorro."


	2. Mine Be the Guilt

**A/N: It's not all sunshine and roses. Deception has consequences. . . don't you think? **

Diego's invitation was startling to her. She let the orange drop on the plate and pressed her lips together. _He means to explain it to me_, she thought. _He is going to show me how he has managed this charade._ He had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to lead this double life; it was clear that he had been so well-versed in deception that his own father, with whom he shared a home, had been completely unaware.

Diego drained his cup and coffee and rose from his chair, casting a sidelong glance at the _vaqueros_ and his father, who were still conversing by the door. He motioned for Victoria to follow him and she rose from the table. She hesitated. "Should we wait for your father?" she asked very quietly, uncertain of where they were going.

Diego shook his head. "No, it is likely he will have things to attend to once he is done with the _vaqueros_. I imagine he will need to alert our neighbors to what they saw. There is time." He smiled gently and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the library. His touch radiated warmth but was entirely proper for a gentleman. _He knows the servants are probably listening, and watching, too._ All this sneaking around would take getting used to.

Diego returned to the settee where they had sat the night before and picked up the book of poetry that he had laid on the side table. It was still open to the poem he had been reading just before he had whispered to her to follow him. Victoria sat next to him and folded her hands in her lap, confused. _I thought we were going to meet Zorro?_

Diego turned a page in the book and resumed reading aloud. His voice was soft, perhaps a shade deeper than the one she was used to hearing from him.

_One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love, _

_Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove. _

_And the heartless may wonder at all I resign - _

_Thy lips shall reply, not to them, but to mine._

Victoria considered how often Diego had been privy to _her_ sighs of sorrow over Zorro, and how often he had played the sympathetic friend to her fawning over the masked man. What had that been to him? How had he felt, knowing that the object of her longing was really _him_? She felt color rising in her cheeks as she remembered so many instances that were, in retrospect, truly embarrassing. _Don't try to imitate Zorro, Don Diego. You will only end up looking foolish. She's too much woman for you, Diego. Why don't you ever _do _anything, Diego? _ Her words to him were often dismissive and even wounding. It was possible that there were no times in the past four years that she had not made a fool of herself over Zorro in front of Diego. _And yet. . . _ Victoria's brow furrowed as she considered Diego's responses to her. _And yet he let me go on and on about him. Maybe he enjoyed my foolishness. _She closed her eyes and felt the tiniest prick of annoyance take root in her heart with the man seated next to her.

Anyone observing the two of them together in the library would have thought Victoria's eyes were closed because she was lost in the music of the poetry, but anyone who could read her thoughts would have been privy to something darker. She felt a growing frustration at his expectation that years of keeping her in the dark would be forgiven by her without question.

Victoria head was turned toward the front door as she heard the _vaqueros _make their exit. _Was Diego waiting for them to leave? Of course_, she thought, realizing that an exit would be more difficult with so many eyes in the room. Wherever they were going, it would be easier to get there without so many people in the hacienda.

After a moment, Don Alejandro found them in the library, his confident posture and demeanor returned to him by his conversation with his cattle hands. "Diego, I am going to send letters with the _vaqueros_ to Don Sebastien and Don Ricardo about possibility of cattle thieves near their _ranchos._ And after that, well, I think a long talk is in order." He gestured toward his son with two fingers. He gave his son a look that might sear his hide. Diego closed the book, keeping a finger between its pages, and nodded in agreement.

"Of course, Father. Until that time Victoria and I will remain. . . nearby. Tell Felipe. He will understand." Victoria turned to regard the younger don's face. _Nearby. Of course Zorro is nearby. But where? _

Don Alejandro frowned and shook his head. "As you will, my son. I am off to write letters. Victoria," he said, and bowed an elegant exit.

Diego sighed and picked up the book. "Where were we? Yes, here." Victoria leaned back in the settee and tried to listen to the words he was reading. _Everything you do lately is unexpected, Diego de la Vega._ She had not understood his actions last night until he had explained himself. She did not understand what they were doing now, and hoped an explanation would be forthcoming.

The hacienda was quiet now except for the ticking of the clock. The servants seemed to have found things to occupy them in places that were not near the library. There was no one within earshot and no one in the dining room, sala, or hallway, yet Diego continued to read, licking a finger before turning each page. Victoria grew restless and shifted in her seat. _Did he mean that El Zorro just sits here all day and reads poetry?_ Surely he had something more in mind than this!

Finally, after another long poem, Diego set the book aside. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips gently. "Are you ready?" he said softly. Victoria smiled and searched his face for some clue as to what would happen next. Would they be going to the stables to saddle horses?

Diego stood and walked to the huge fireplace that was flanked by bookshelves. He held out a hand toward her. "Follow me," he said softly. He reached under the right side of the mantle and a soft click ensued. Suddenly the back of the fireplace swung open, and Diego stepped inside. "Quickly," he added. Victoria nodded in amazement and stepped over the hearth to follow him.

**-Z-**

What lay beyond the fireplace was, of course, exactly what Victoria knew she would find, for she had been there before. What had been lacking for Victoria was her understanding of where or how this place existed.

"Here?" she said, her voice full of wonder. "It was here along," she said softly, trailing a hand along the stone as she walked down the steps. Diego folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching her take it in. He knew she was seeing this place with a new set of eyes. She stepped slowly around the cave, regarding each thing quietly. She paused for a long moment in front of the table full of glassware, with bottles and tubes of liquids. She took in the table's contents: A mortar and pestle filled with a fine gray powder, a flint and steel, a wooden box, stacks of papers, a book propped open on a stand. She moved on without comment. Diego's eyes followed her.

She paused for a moment at the rack draped with black satin and smoothed the material between her fingers. She did not speak, and after a moment she turned and moved toward the ornate wooden chair where she had sat when the masked man had proposed to her with his mother's ring. She sat down and leaned her head back in the chair, looking pale and wary. _How long have I dreamed of being here again? _she wondered to herself. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and images, memories of waking dreams. This place was exactly as she had remembered it but nothing like she had really known, because it _belonged to Diego._ _Diego is Zorro_. _Diego, _thudded her heart. She could feel it pounding in the back of her head and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, he was next to her. He leaned on the desk but said nothing.

"This place seems different to me now," was all she could think to say. Diego raised his eyebrows in a question. She continued, "Because I know what is on the other side of the wall." _And who is on the other side of the mask_, she thought ruefully. She leaned forward and pressed a hand to her forehead. _Oh, the wine from last night, _she sighed. _I might enjoy this more if my head did not ache so. _

She watched him lift a small dagger from the desktop and twirl the handle in his long fingers. He gave the dagger a little flip and caught it without looking before laying it on the desk again. _He is happier here, in this cave, _Victoria mused. The studious, easy-going Diego de la Vega and the passionate, powerful Fox met at the entrance to the cave and became one person. _This is who he really is. This is who he was meant to be. _

Victoria leaned back in the ornate wooden chair and took a deep breath. "Can I ask questions?"

"Ask me anything," he said softly.

Victoria reached out and smoothed her hand across the desktop before speaking. "What did your father say to you last night, just before he left the dining room?" She watched his face as she asked, and saw a flicker of surprise at her question. It was probably not the query he had been expecting.

Diego folded his arms and smiled roguishly. "He said I should remember your reputation."

Victoria felt color rise in her cheeks at the thought of the older don's chastisement of his son. _Don Alejandro thought Diego would take advantage of me? _She glanced away, pressing her lips together. She could not put into words why this was embarrassing; perhaps it was the idea that Don Alejandro imagined they would do exactly what they did as soon as they had been alone. Alejandro had been passionately in love with Diego's mother and surely knew what it was like to be young. _In love_, Victoria's mind repeated. _In love. With Diego._ Those words did not yet make sense to her. Diego was watching her intently.

Victoria met his gaze again. "And what did Felipe say to you?" Again, it was not the question he had expected, and he tipped his head as he tried to remember.

"He said 'I am so relieved.'' Diego paused. He unfolded his arms and cleared his throat, then nervously re-folded his arms before speaking again. "Victoria. . ." he began, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I am afraid I did not take my father's request to heart."

Victoria could not continue to meet his gaze when he said that. She glanced down. _He is worried about me and what I think of last night. _ Perhaps he was forgetting that it was her idea to lie down on the bed. She felt a flush rising up her neck as she recalled images and sensations from the night before: The raw passion in his eyes; the feel of his mouth on her neck; the smooth hard muscles of his arms and chest; the sound of his voice as he whispered _querida. _ She had been willing for him to return to her bed and for him to. . . what? Would she have allowed him to undress her? Would she have given herself to him completely? There was no doubt in her mind that the answer was yes.

She reached for a book on the desk and pulled it to her lap, tracing the outline of the deeply embossed words with her fingers. The title was in a language she did not know-Latin? _He reads this, _she thought. _He reads books in languages that I do not speak, in languages that I will never understand. _A divide that she had sensed between them at the table earlier felt deeper. They were from two different worlds. They did not even speak the same language. She looked at him again.

"It was my idea," she said, and then again with more resolve. "It was _my _idea, Diego. If your father has doubts about my reputation he should know that it was I who wanted you to. . . " her voice trailed off. She could not make herself say the words.

Diego frowned. "_Querida," _he began. "I was the one who wanted to be alone with you. I was the one who made it appear that we had retired separately. It was hardly the gentlemanly thing to do." And in that moment, his attempt at piety woke something in her. She felt anger coil in her chest. She dropped the book on the desk.

"The _ungentlemanly _thing to do was keeping all of this from me for so long," Victoria snapped, gesturing toward Toronado. She surprised herself with the sudden surge of anger she felt. She had not been angry with him last night. The range of emotion she had been capable of feeling had been mellowed by the wine and by the confusion of the moment. The candlelight, his soft voice, the complex dance of words he had shared with his father, all of it. She had been aware of only her own desire for the man behind the mask, and her mind had not allowed her to think very clearly about what years of deception really felt like. Victoria had never imagined that she would feel anger towards the man in black who whispered endearments in her ears and who kissed her with such ardor. _If _I _took advantage of _him _last night, then _he _has been taking advantage of _me _for years! _The new insight made her eyes narrow in anger.

Diego remained expressionless at her outburst. She could not read his face, and that made her even angrier. _Look at him now. No apology for his years of deception. He only wants me to absolve him for kissing me last night._

She felt a sudden solidarity with Don Alejandro for his anger. The elder don had been given several hours' head start on the discovery that his son was Zorro, and more time to simmer in the frustration that the deception inevitably brought. Victoria struggled to remember some of the things Don Alejandro had said last night. _Things about honor, loyalty, deception. _All of those things had been said at the table before it had been clear to her what they'd been talking about, but the pieces fit this morning. Alejandro was angry at his son because he had felt close to him, yet the closeness was a lie. Diego had never been his true self with his father, and worse, he had lied to him with-how had Don Alejandro put it?-with _his life._ _Don Alejandro beat me to the truth of it_, thought Victoria. _I have been lied to. _

Diego was obviously waiting for her to speak again, so she did. "You used to come to see me at night, in my bedroom. You kissed me there. You kissed me in my kitchen, and in my taproom, and on that horse" - she gestured at Toronado again -"and in your garden, and in this _cave." _ She could feel the words catching up to her thoughts as she continued the litany. The memory of their first kiss brought a fresh surge of anger. _He was too cowardly to tell me that he loved me as himself, so he put on that mask and found me out there, just to take advantage of my attraction to him. _

Diego seemed nonplussed. "If I may remind you, it was _you_ who kissed _me _ in the garden." Victoria drew in a breath sharply. _How dare he! _

His total calmness in the face of her obvious frustration was making everything so much worse. It felt as though he saw her as one of his opponents now, someone circling him with a sword drawn. He was utterly unflappable, waiting patiently for the attack. It was maddening.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Victoria suspected that he did not, but she pressed on anyway. "I think the reason you kept up this charade for so long was because you found a way to get my attention. I think you actually enjoyed keeping me in the dark for so long. You knew that I would never fall for someone as. . . as. . . _boring _ as Diego, so you took advantage of me with that mask." She thought she saw something flicker in his eyes at that moment, but he quickly covered it and remained emotionless. "I think Don Diego de la Vega is a _coward," _she finished.

"Is that all?" he asked lightly. He seemed unaffected by her accusations, and the rage that was simmering in her chest threatened to boil over. _How dare he_, she thought. _How dare he sit there so calmly when I have just told him that he is a coward and a liar._ It was obvious to her that this man was cold and unfeeling. _You are a fool, Victoria Escalante! An honest man would have come to you as himself. _ _He found a way to get what he wanted from you, and you gave it to him without demanding anything in return. _She picked a new tack and pressed on.

"And how did you suppose I was to find out about all of this? What were you expecting? Was it to be on the gallows? Your hanging, or mine? Maybe both of us! What exactly was your plan?" She felt tears pricking her eyes, and that made her even angrier. She did not want to cry in front of him. Not now.

Diego clenched his jaw, showing irritation for the first time. He stood and paced several steps away from her. He was not inclined to show emotion during an encounter with an opponent, and this was no different. Showing emotion gave his opponent an opportunity to breach a weakness. He didn't turn as he spoke. "Of all the ways I imagined telling you, the events of yesterday were not among them."

Victoria bristled at that. "Oh, really? And how did you plan to tell me? You were never lacking in opportunities. You saw me _every day_, Diego."

Diego turned and met her gaze evenly. "And if I had told you? If I had just walked into your kitchen at the tavern and announced that I was Zorro, what then? You would have laughed me out of the kitchen. Or if I had come dressed in black and pulled of the mask, you would have rejected me out of hand. I would have put you in mortal danger. Have you forgotten about the bounty on my head?"

Victoria leaned forward in the chair. "Have you forgotten all the times I was in danger because of things you did? You pretend that you did not tell me about all of this for _my _safety, but I was never safe. Everyone in the territory knew of my romance with the outlaw Zorro. Do you think they would have believed me if I said I did not know where you live? Your real identity?" Her eyes flashed with anger. "I was in danger every day because you singled me out." She felt tears threatening again but she willed them away. She was too angry to cry.

Diego clenched his fists but kept his face expressionless. "I _pretended_ to be concerned for your safety?" His voice had taken a darker turn. "Victoria, do you think that this was all a ploy to gain your affection?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. Was it?"

There was silence between them as they regarded one another. Victoria could feel her head pounding with each beat of her heart, and anger still tight and fresh in her chest. _He is angry_, _too, _she thought. _But he cannot pretend what he did was for my own good. _She felt a mounting unease about the entire situation and wished he had never brought her to the cave.

Diego turned away from her again and paced to the stairs, as if he meant to leave. He paused at the bottom and turned back to her. "You cannot imagine what it has been like for me."

_He is trying to make me pity him_, she thought. _The handsome, rich, young caballero who stole kisses from the tavern maid is trying to gain pity now. _Victoria narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I am sure it has been difficult for you. Whenever you played dress up, you could do whatever you wanted with me." It was a low thing to say, but Victoria's temper had been riled and she was speaking as fast as she was thinking. She watched in satisfaction as the words hit their mark. Diego's jaw clenched tightly. She pressed on. "If you had been honest with me from the beginning-"

He cut her off. "If I had been honest with you from the beginning, it is likely none of us would alive now." He ran both of his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. "Victoria, I did not have a choice. If I had approached the alcalde as myself, I would have been an easy target. It was necessary for me to have a place to hide, to have an identity that could not be associated with anyone in the pueblo. It was how I was able to survive, and it was how I was able to do what needed to be done."

"But you did not have to keep it a secret from me. You know I would have died before I told anyone." Her voice broke then, and his eyes softened.

"That," he said in a low voice, "is exactly why you could not be trusted to know."

Victoria breathed in sharply and rose from her seat. "It is a fine thing to talk about trust with me of all people, Diego. No one has risked more to keep you safe. _No one!_" _He likes to think it was such an elegant ruse. He wants me to think it was all about sacrifice. _"You would like to believe that you were the only one who made a sacrifice. Well, hear this, Diego de la Vega: I gave up years of my life waiting for you." The tears that had been trying to fall finally won and slid down her cheeks. "You had everything, always. You were the son of a wealthy caballero. You were always safe. And I gave up everything to wait for you, for. . . for what? I was not safe yesterday and I am not safe now, Diego. You protected _no one_ but yourself."

Diego seemed unable to keep the emotion from his face now. He closed his eyes and let her words impale him.

Victoria stood several paces away, chin quivering with tears in her eyes, and watched the tall caballero stand motionless in the cave of his deception.

She wanted to escape, but she realized with irritation that she had no idea how to get out of the cave. 


	3. Forsake If Thou Wilt

**A/N: Victoria wants to leave, Diego wants to talk things out, and they are about to get company. Oh, and everyone is still hungover. Are we having fun yet? **

Diego felt, more than he heard, someone enter the cave and turned to see a disheveled-looking Felipe leading his father down the narrow passageway from the fireplace. He groaned to himself at the sight of them. They certainly knew how to pick an inauspicious time to arrive.

Don Alejandro was muttering to himself and Felipe looked sheepish and anxious. As soon as he rounded the corner he signed rapidly "_I hope this is what you meant._" Earlier, Diego had told his father to find Felipe and tell him that they were 'nearby,' a word they often used to describe where he had been if he'd actually been in the cave. If he suddenly appeared in the library when his father was looking for him, Diego could say, lightly, "Oh, I've been nearby." It was yet another lie by omission that added to the stain on the young don's soul. It was a lie that he was sure goaded his father, who appeared to be mostly annoyed that such a thing as a _swinging fireplace_ existed in his own hacienda and he hadn't know about it until today.

Diego nodded an assurance to the nervous-looking teen and stepped aside to give his father access to the cave. Don Alejandro's annoyed muttering stopped immediately. Diego watched as his father drank it in: The the table full of glassware and test tubes; the large, ornate desk stacked with books and papers; the huge black stallion nickering softly; the rack of black clothing; and finally, a teary-looking Victoria. As he regarded it all with wonder, a smile grew on his face. "How on earth could I not have known?" he asked, softly. He placed a hand on Diego's shoulder. "This is very well done, Diego. Very well indeed."

Diego knew he meant the cave and its material contents. He surely wasn't referring to Victoria. _I don't think he has noticed that she has been crying_, thought Diego with annoyance. _Your sudden appearance was poor timing on your part, Father._ Diego sighed and looked toward Victoria, who had turned away from them and was smoothing her skirt with both hands. He longed to finish their conversation without an audience.

Don Alejandro seemed not to notice his son's distracted nature or Victoria's discomfiture. He was moving toward Toronado in a state of what appeared to be rapture. Ever the horseman, the star attraction of the cave for him was its largest and hairiest resident. "That animal," breathed Don Alejandro. "That majestic animal. This is the stallion to end all stallions, Diego. Tell me we can breed him!" He approached the massive black horse's left flank and reached out to touch it. Toronado's ears flicked forward and he stamped a huge hoof on the floor.

"Careful, Father, he doesn't take kindly to strangers," said Diego, moving quickly across the cave to Toronado's head. "Easy, boy, you are fine," soothed Diego. "He just wants a look." Don Alejandro patted his hand along the horse as he made his way toward the stallion's shoulder.

"He must be seventeen hands!" exclaimed the older don, delighted. Toronado flicked his ears again and tossed his head. "He is the finest animal in the territory, Diego. You must tell me how he came to you." Don Alejandro attempted to lift a hoof from the ground for inspection but the stallion stoutly refused, then turned his head to nip at Alejandro's sleeve.

"He is selectively cooperative," said Diego wryly, ignoring his father's request to hear the story of Toronado's capture. It would be a story for another day. Today, all he wanted was for his head to stop pounding, for his muscles to ache less, and to speak with Victoria. He was reasonably sure that he had some amount of control over only one of those things. He cast a glance in Victoria's direction and saw that she had moved toward the stairs, perhaps in an effort to leave. Felipe still stood at the top of the stairs looking pale and uncertain. _It seems at least Felipe can see that all is not well, _ he mused. Would that his father had the same sensitivity!

Don Alejandro backed away from the stallion and continued his slow tour of the cave. "Very well done," he said again, softly, to himself. He strolled toward the desk and picked up a leather-bound volume, opening it to the title leaf and gently turning the pages. Diego let out an impatient sigh and tried to read Victoria's expression. _I need to find a way to be alone with her again to finish our conversation. _His father was unable to be hurried, so Diego would have to take her somewhere else. He would take her to a quiet place and explain things to her-beg forgiveness from her-for as long as it took. She had been his last night! This morning! He couldn't lose her now.

The older don had moved on to the long wooden table full of chemicals, beakers, bottles, and tubes. "Of course Zorro would also be a man of science; yes, it's so obvious now!" he exclaimed. He reached for a bottle and tried to uncork the stopper. Diego moved quickly to his side and removed it from his hands, shaking his head.

"Perhaps it would be best if you left the chemicals to me, Father," said Diego. "That particular distillation is rather volatile." Don Alejandro responded with a raised eyebrow, but no comment. Diego set the bottle back on the table and cast a glance at Felipe, who shrugged helplessly. _This was why the concept of a _secret _cave had been to our great advantage, _thought Diego.

Don Alejandro moved to the rack where Zorro's clothes hung. Diego knew exactly what the draw would be there, and sighed when he was right. He watched his father lift the saber from the rack, balancing it in his hands. He held the body of the scabbard and grasped the grip with his right hand, pulling out the sword in one smooth motion. "It's heavy!" gasped the older don. He slashed the saber through the air and then ran a thumb along its edge.

"Careful, Father. It's sharp," said Diego with some annoyance. Felipe was unable to stay away from it, despite near-constant admonitions. He suspected he would now have a similar problem with his father.

"You have to tell me where it came from, son," said Don Alejandro. He turned the heavy blade with his wrist and regarded the hilt closely, admiring its craftsmanship and balance.

"It was a gift," said Diego simply, not wanting to elaborate beyond that point at the moment. To bring up Sir Edmund Kendall would only inflame his father's frustration, since Sir Edmund's visit and subsequent death had been a painful topic for years. Additionally, it would remind his father of the carefully-spun web of lies that Diego traversed regarding his fencing lessons in Madrid. His father had expressed frustration many times that four years of lessons with one of the best fightmasters in Europe had somehow produced _Diego. _With every mention, Diego's lack of prowess with the sword became source of annoyance on his father's part and shame for Diego: A sharp reminder of his blatant and ongoing lies. Diego the disappointment, Diego the liar. It was impossible to express which one brought him more shame! _No, best not to say anything more now, _thought Diego. He cast another look at Victoria and saw that she was pacing the floor near the bottom of the stairs. Felipe had sunk to a seated position on the top step and was regarding her with concern.

Don Alejandro slid the sword back into its scabbard and hung it on the rack. He turned and regarded Diego with great seriousness before speaking. "Diego, son, this place is marvelous. What you have done here. . . " The words trailed off as the awe in his eyes overtook his ability to speak. He cleared his throat and shook his head as he tried to explain his obvious admiration. The older don had lived as a rough-and-tumble youth in the wild territories, and the illusion of recklessness that Zorro perfected most certainly appealed to him. Diego had always seen the admiration for his alter ego in his father's face when he spoke of things Zorro had done. Brave things, lawless things, sometimes impossible things. Perhaps things that Alejandro longed to do himself. He held the masked man in very high regard, and there was an element of glee in his face as he continued to take in the contents of the cave. It seemed that the frustration and anger of the night before was melting away from Alejandro with every passing moment. _This place has the opposite effect on Victoria, _sighed Diego.

Diego looked again toward Victoria and saw that she was now standing, still and pale, with her hands clasped primly in front of her. She was watching Don Alejandro, but her face was unreadable. Diego's brow creased in concern as he regarded her. In a swordfight, giving your opponent too much time to consider their next move was almost always fatal. As much as it pained him to admit it, he had almost no experience in the delicate dance of emotions with the woman he loved. His instinct told him that he was losing his opportunity. _I need to talk to her, and soon, _ thought Diego.

She was slipping away from him, even now.

The older don moved around the table and rested his hands on it. "Diego, son, I know we had words last night," began Alejandro. Diego sighed wearily. _Here we go,_ he thought. This was sure to be the lecture that he'd known was coming, and it was being given at a most inopportune time. Don Alejandro rose to his full height and folded his arms, in a gesture not unlike the one Diego often struck when he was scolding Felipe for touching his sword. "What you did was inexcusable, keeping all this from me from so long. I believe I can understand your reasoning, but I wish you could have trusted me. You know that I would do anything for you, son." He swallowed before continuing and looked around the cave. "I am glad this is all out in the open now, and that we can be honest with one another in the future." Don Alejandro leaned in toward his son before continuing, "And I know that this means things will be different between you two." He gestured toward Victoria. "But I want you know that I have always hoped that things might work out this way. When I say I want _babies_, I mean it!" He chortled at his long-running joke and knocked on the table, hoping to elicit a shade of embarrassment from both of them. Diego saw Victoria turn her head away. _That was it? That was the lecture in its totalilty? _

"Father," said Diego reproachfully.

Alejandro laughed and reached out to grip Diego's right arm forcefully. Diego winced in pain and pulled away. "Father, really, now is not the time."

"Diego, your arm!" said Alejandro with alarm. His brows knit in concern. "I'd forgotten that Risendo wounded you."

"It wasn't Risendo's sword, Father, and it's fine." Diego cast a look at Victoria whose face had become even more drawn at the talk of grandchildren. _She looks trapped, _thought Diego. He suddenly realized that she _was_ trapped, physically: She had no idea how to get out of the cave. _My one advantage, _he thought. He was certain that she would have left by now if she had known how to open the fireplace.

Don Alejandro's brow knit in concern. "If it wasn't Risendo, what happened? You must have it dressed properly, son." Diego could tell that it was the old soldier in his father speaking now, the soldier who had braved the Yucatan with his comrades falling around him like the rain. He had seen more than his share of wounds and held beliefs bordering on paranoia about them.

"It has been dressed, but thank you for your concern," said Diego with just a hint of irritation in his voice. "It was a lucky shot by one of Risendo's men." _Please, let this go. I need to get to Victoria. _The last thing he wanted to do in this moment was be fawned over by his father, or forced to give a detailed account of the wound on his arm. He was in no mood for anything other than fixing whatever was wrong between the quiet, pale senorita and himself.

Don Alejandro seemed unwilling to take Diego's word. "A musket ball! Diego, the risk of infection is very great. If only you had told me last night I could have been of more help. Well, what's done is done. Take off your shirt and let's have a look." He moved to unbutton his son's shirt, but Diego pushed his hands away.

"Father, please, it's fine," insisted Diego. "Really. I can take care of myself." _The physical wounds, anyway. _

At that, Victoria turned and hurried up the steps. Felipe's eyes registered alarm as they followed her.

"Father, if you'll excuse me," said Diego. He didn't wait for a reply but instead hurried up the steps after her as quickly as his sore body would allow, leaving his father and Felipe in the cave to wonder after them.

Diego followed her down the narrow hall to the fireplace exit, his heart pounding and his stomach twisted with anxiety. She had gone as far as the narrow tunnel would allow and had placed both hands on the smooth marble of the fireplace panel. _She means to leave without even talking to me, _ despaired Diego.

Victoria heard him approach and spun to meet him. Her dark eyes met his fearlessly, but what he saw there was unfamiliar. He had not yet experienced the look that she gave him and he had no idea what it meant.

"I have seen enough here," she said coolly. "I am ready to go home now."

"I think you should stay," said Diego, uncertain of his ability to convince her. "I think we need to continue our conversation." _Please, _querida, _stay. Stay, _his heart begged. He could feel his pulse quicken and throb in his temples. Last night's wine continued to plague him.

"I have nothing further to say," she said, quietly. "You cannot deny that you have kept this from me for longer than you should." She did not sound angry, which worried him more than her tears had. She swallowed hard before continuing. "You took advantage of me, Diego. You took advantage of my trust."

_Oh, querida, _his heart begged. The words he had always been afraid of were coming from her lips. He returned to his previous point, hoping to make her understand. "Victoria, please believe me when I say that any deception was only for-"

"-My own good? My own safety?" She didn't let him finish. "Yes, so you said." He could tell by her voice that she was completely unconvinced of this.

He reached for her hand and looked into her eyes. She didn't pull away, but Diego did not take that as a good sign, because her eyes were not full of love. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, _safe_," she said. "I have only been alone."

"Victoria," he said, his voice pleading and his eyes searching. _What I can say? She's right, _he thought, defeated. She turned her head away.

"Please, Diego, I just want to go home," she said softly. He released her hand.

He cleared his throat, his mind scrambling for something to say to her. "Victoria-" he tried again. He was fully aware that he was losing ground. If he'd had a sword in his hand, he would be backing away from her and blocking every blow. He was losing. _She's leaving. _

"I do not regret last night," she said softly. "I would have given you everything." Her words made him catch his breath. She looked up at him calmly. "But to hear you ask forgiveness for it. . . it was too much. You have reminded me how you always have the upper hand. You always had all the control. It is time for you know what it feels like to be the one who wonders."

There was silence for a moment between them as the crease in Diego's brow deepened and worry entered his eyes. _Wonders what? _

Victoria saw the concern in his face and instantly became angry, an emotion that Diego had no trouble recognizing. "Have no fear, Senor Zorro," she hissed, narrowing her eyes and drawing herself to her full height. "Your _secret_ is safe with me."

Diego's heart tumbled from his chest and fell to the floor.

TBC


	4. Grief in the Sound

**A/N: It is looking like the day after Resendo 's death isn't going well, either. A little hungover, a lot in pain, we still have two stubborn and passionate people with many, many details to sort. . .**

Diego raked his hands through his hair and leaned against the cool stone wall. He closed his eyes and allowed the fear wash over him in that moment. _She left. _ After her last cold words to him, he'd had no reply. He had stood for a moment regarding her quietly, then leaned to look through the spy hole into the library and reached above her to turn the candelabra, opening the door. She had swept through it without looking back.

Victoria's words haunted him. _It is time for you to feel what it is like to be the one who wonders. _ What did she mean by that? Had he really gained and lost everything in just a few short hours? It did not seem possible that in the moonlight she had been in his arms-_his, _not his black-clad alter ego's-and now she was gone.

_The damnation continues,_ thought Diego. _My fate is to suffer endlessly._

His body ached, his head throbbed, the wound in his arm pinched and burned whenever he moved it, but all of his physical ailments together were nothing compared to the gaping hole in his heart. _This, _thought Diego. _This is what it is to really fear. _He had tasted it before when his father and Victoria were seriously injured and he had nearly lost them, but this time it was different: To know that he could lose Victoria and she would live on was in many ways so much worse than the time she'd lain near death. Death, inevitable and cruel, that he could maybe eventually have accepted. But this kind of rejection? It was so much worse. It was personal.

And what had she said? That she'd never once been safe. She had only been alone. _That makes two of us_, sighed Diego miserably.

How was it that his father's anger with him was reduced by seeing the cave, while Victoria became angry? He should have known that taking Victoria to the cave would stir up frustration. _If only we had stayed in the library and read poetry all day! _ He groaned softly. Gone was the optimism he felt upon waking, the hope that it would all work out so much more beautifully than he had ever dreamed.

Nothing was going to be simple for him after all.

**-Z-**

Diego's return to the cave was met with curious looks from both his father and Felipe. _How much did they hear? _he wondered. The probability that they had heard every word was very high; on this side of the wall, sound traveled well. _Wonderful, _thought Diego. _Simply wonderful._ If things couldn't go well with Victoria, couldn't he at least have the dignity of some privacy?

Felipe spoke first, signing rapidly. '_What did you do?_' he asked, his eyes concerned. '_She was mad,' _ He signed 'mad' twice, to make sure that Diego understood it, or perhaps to emphasize how mad she was.

Diego shook his head. "I don't know, Felipe." Felipe frowned at this and leaned back against the wall of the cave. It was apparent that he was also feeling the effects of last night's wine, and perhaps had been wrested from his bed by Don Alejandro sooner than he would have preferred.

Don Alejandro had re-folded his arms and was in full lecture stance. "Son, whatever you did, you need to tell her you are sorry. Now. And if it has something to with what happened after I went to bed last night, I don't want to know about it. Just marry her and be done with it."

_This is what passes for your advice, Father? _thought Diego incredulously. He forced a laugh that sounded weak and strained. "Marry her, father? Do you really think that she is likely to agree to that now? That seems like a rather poor solution."

The older don shook his head. "Talk to her. Tell her you are sorry, even if you are not the one at fault. Women want to hear that. She's had a shock, Diego, and she'll want you to be sorry about not being truthful with her." He raised an eyebrow and nodded to himself, approving of his own insight.

_If only it was that simple, _Diego thought. He sighed and sank onto the wooden stool by the table. He was so tired, though not from lack of sleep; he was tired of facing one difficulty after the next with no reprieve. Just when things were looking up, some awful thing would happen and send him scrambling again. His head and arm were throbbing alternately. He wanted to climb into bed and start the day over again, or sleep to forget.

Felipe stood, slowly, as the wine from the night before had made him feel sluggish as well. He stretched his arms and rubbed the back of his neck, taking a moment to consider what to do next. He seemed to remember something and moved decisively to a cabinet to gather objects into a bowl: A knife, a jar, a roll of clean bandages and cloths, and a small bottle of clear liquid. He approached Diego with the bowl and signed "_This, now_."

Diego nodded and began to unbutton his shirt. Don Alejandro watched the silent interaction and frowned when he saw what they were about. He apparently seemed to take a small personal affront to the fact Felipe was the one who would care for the wound on his son's arm. _Please, Father, just let us do this. Don't make everything about you today. _

The older don watched as his son gingerly raised his arm to pull it from the sleeve of his shirt and narrowed his eyes. But what his father said next had nothing to do with the physical wound. "Diego, you know that women think first with their hearts. You need to be more sensitive when you talk to her. She is a smart woman. You'll not be able put anything over on her." He seemed unwilling to let the topic drop.

Felipe used the tip of the small knife to slice away the bandage from the day before, his nimble fingers working quickly to unwind it. Don Alejandro watched with great interest but no comment. Diego winced as Felipe slowly pulled away the last layer of bandage to reveal the wound. It was clean but sore. Felipe regarded it for a moment before he uncorked the bottle of clear liquid and soaked a clean cloth. He watched Diego's face as he pressed it to the wound. Diego closed his eyes but made no further outward sign that it caused him pain.

Diego drew in a deep breath and spoke without opening his eyes. "Father, if it was that simple, trust me, things would be better between us. I am well aware that she has a mind of her own." _A mind that is fully capable of making things more complicated than they need to be, _he thought ruefully. Her last words to him had been. . . threatening? Was it possible?

Felipe pulled the cloth from the wound, dropped it into the bowl, and tipped the bottle onto another cloth, pressing it again to the wound. Diego opened his eyes and craned his neck to watch. "How is it, Felipe?" he asked. Felipe shrugged and tipped his head to one side as if to say '_no better, no worse.'_

Alejandro tisked and said, "Perhaps Doctor Hernandez-"

"-Should come and make note that Diego de la Vega was inexplicably wounded, several days ago, by a musket ball?" Diego shook his head. "No, I think not. That would be too hard to explain away. I don't think anyone in the pueblo saw Zorro get shot, but I that is a chance I can't afford."

The older don regarded his son with a look that could have been either sympathy or regret.

Felipe had opened a jar of salve and was now dabbing it on the wound with the corner of a cloth. It was a long moment before the older don spoke again. "So Felipe has always helped you, in this way, then?"

Diego winced as Felipe dabbed on more salve and the teen shrugged a 'sorry' at him. "Yes, always. He has been my closest ally." Diego gave Felipe a small but grateful smile and Felipe bowed his head shyly. Diego cleared his throat. "And he has been helpful in ways that you probably couldn't imagine, Father. You might as well know the secret to some of my success. You haven't known all there is to know about Felipe."

Felipe busied himself with rolling a bandage and didn't meet the older don's gaze. "Don't tell me that he is also a masked outlaw. I am not sure how much more my heart can take," said Don Alejandro.

Diego smiled. "No, nothing like that. Felipe is able to hear. He doesn't need to read your lips when you are speaking." _And he can speak,_ thought Diego to himself. He stopped before saying it aloud. He would let Felipe have some secrets.

"Felipe, you can hear? You can hear me now?" said Don Alejandro. Felipe nodded without looking up. "That's wonderful!" exclaimed Don Alejandro, clearly pleased but by turns disappointed. "But why would you keep such a thing from me?"

Felipe began to wrap the bandage around the wound on Diego's arm, keeping his eyes down and not replying. "I think I can answer that, Father. I only learned of his ability to hear myself after returning from Madrid. It was right around the time that Zorro was born. Felipe was afraid of being treated differently if everyone knew he could hear, and so we decided together to keep it a secret. It turned out to be an invaluable resource. He hears us very well when we talk, and he has been able to save my life many times because of this. People say things in front of someone they assume to be deaf that they wouldn't say in front of anyone else."

"So many secrets in my own house," Don Alejandro muttered, shaking his head. "And here I thought we lived quite the provincial life, my son."

Felipe had finished wrapping the wound and had tied the ends neatly, patting the bandage gently to signal that he was done. "_Gracias_, Felipe. Very well done," said Diego, reaching for his shirt. "I told you I can take care of myself Father, but what I should have said was 'I have Felipe to take care of me.'" He smiled at his young charge as he gathered up the materials and busied himself with putting them away.

"You do very good work, Felipe. Doctor Hernandez himself would be impressed." Don Alejandro said as an aside to Diego, "And better than I, as well. You were right to trust him with this, Diego." Felipe looked pleased at this comment and smiled to himself.

Diego nodded as he finished buttoning his shirt. _At least Felipe is a constant in my life. I would be lost without him, _he thought.

Don Alejandro spoke again. "Felipe, I'll need to ride into town soon. Will you tell one of the grooms to saddle Dulcinea for me?" Felipe nodded and looked to Diego with a question in his eyes. Diego shook his head in reply.

"No, Felipe, don't worry about Esperanza. I have no plans to leave the hacienda today." He felt his bed calling him. _I need to think of something I can say to convince Victoria to. . . to what? To trust me again? _A long siesta might alleviate the pounding in his head, which might make thinking easier.

Don Alejandro regarded his son with great seriousness for a moment, and then turned to Felipe. "Go on ahead, I'll be there shortly. I have something to talk about with Diego." Felipe nodded and looked to Diego one last time.

Diego nodded. "Go," he said, simply. The teen turned and hurried up and steps and out of the cave.

Don Alejandro paced around the table before speaking. "Diego, I've been thinking quite a lot about what you said yesterday," he began.

_Which part? _thought Diego tiredly. "I am sure you have," he said in an emotionless voice.

His father folded his arms and assumed the lecture pose again before speaking. "Diego, I know that your intentions are nothing but honorable when you say you want to adopt that boy, and I know what he means to you. But I also want you to know that I intend for the de la Vega land and properties to go to your firstborn son. Yours and Victoria's," he added, as if he hadn't been clear enough.

"Father-" Diego began.

"No, hear me out. It was one thing yesterday afternoon for you to announce that you intend to adopt Felipe. For a confirmed bachelor, such an arrangement would make sense. But you have to think realistically, Diego. Why would you put him ahead of your own flesh and blood? And why would you want Victoria to have a son more than half her age? You'll be marrying her soon, of course," he finished, waving a hand dismissively.

_Don't be quite so sure of that_, despaired Diego. "Father, I'm not sure how much you heard of the last conversation between Victoria and me, but you might be rather putting the cart before the horse." He gave his sleeve a tug as he buttoned it. "I don't think marriage is on her mind at the moment."

Don Alejandro waved his hand again, as if to brush away any concern Diego had about their relationship. "Hear me out, Diego, I'm not finished. What I want to say is that it doesn't make sense for you to adopt Felipe. Let me do it, son. Let me give him the de la Vega name. He will have all the security he needs in life-a good education, a chance to travel, whatever he wants. And you and Victoria will start with a clean slate." He nodded as he finished, agreeing with his good sense.

Diego raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You would adopt Felipe?"

Don Alejandro reached out a hand and laid it on his son's shoulder, gently. "I have always had two sons, and I mean to once again." His voice broke and his eyes pooled with tears. "Let me do this for you, Diego."

Diego could only nod before his father drew him into an embrace. Diego rested his head on his father's shoulder and for the first time in living memory felt a measure of peace there.

**-Z-**


	5. Guilt in the Fame

**A/N There are two slightly AU elements in this chapter. In the TV series, de Soto tells his lancers to 'take the body away.' I have always assumed that would be for burial, perhaps in a pauper's grave. I had a hard time believing that Don Alejandro would allow such a thing for the man he now knows to be his son, so that is being changed. Also, I assume that the show writers would have had de Soto witness the fencing incident in the garden and require some kind of explanation for it. My de Soto is not nearly as humbled by the events in the garden as the TV de Soto was. (He's just his usual delightful self in this story.) **

**Never fear, faithful readers. This isn't an angst fic, so the sadness will not last forever. Now, where were we? Oh yes! Despair, separation, grief. . . are they still not having fun? **

The only sound in the cave was the large black destrier wickering softly.

Diego pulled himself into a standing position, slowly, and walked toward the rack where Zorro's clothes hung. He flexed his left arm and found it unaccountably sore until he remembered the sudden and frenzied fencing from yesterday. Unaccustomed to fighting left-handed, his muscles protested today. _I'll add that to my list of woes_, he thought ruefully.

"You move like an old man, Diego," said his father. Diego shook his head and turned to face Alejandro.

"I feel like one today, Father. Perhaps I failed to mention that I was buried under rock in the arroyo yesterday?" He forced a small smile. "Zorro frequently finds himself in unusual situations." _And Diego pays the price the next day_. Victoria's drawn face came to mind. _And for many years after_, he sighed.

Don Alejandro frowned. "Buried? Under _rock_?"

"A story for another day, Father," said Diego tiredly. There were so many stories to tell, so many details to consider. Too many knots to unwind.

For once, Don Alejandro didn't press him, and Diego was relieved. "I have to go to town, son. It is not a task I relish, but I need to see about arranging a funeral for Risen-for my _son._"

Diego gave the front of his shirt a tug to smooth it. "Father, everyone would understand if you decided to allow Gilberto Resendo to be buried by the government."

"Is that what you want for your brother, Diego?" said Alejandro softly.

Diego paused. "No. No, I wouldn't. You are right. He belongs here, with Mother." The thought of Emissary Resendo resting eternally next to his beautiful mother was disturbing, but when he replaced the word "Emissary" with "brother" his mind didn't recoil quite as much. _I wish I could have known him as a brother_, thought Diego.

He saw a shadow pass over his father's eyes at his mention of his beloved Elena. "I wish she had known, Diego. I wish she had known that we had _two_ sons. She would have been so happy," said Alejandro wistfully.

Diego regarded his father's face and its uncharacteristic melancholy. The events of the last several weeks had been exhausting, both physically and emotionally. Diego had felt himself pushed to the limit time and again, only to find that the new limit was far past the one he'd known before. "We would have all been happy," he said simply.

Don Alejandro nodded sharply and then said, "Now, why don't you show me how to get out of this place?"

**-Z-**

Before retiring to his room, Diego made a point of entering the guest room where Victoria had slept the night before. He saw, to his great relief, that the servants had not yet been in to tidy it. He saw her shawl still pooled on the floor where it had fallen from her shoulders. _She must have left the hacienda without even returning to her room_, thought Diego, unsurprised. He bent to pick it up and draped it over his arm.

His reason for returning to the room was still there on the table. The note he'd written, scratched quickly in the dark, was still propped next to the glass. _So much for the old remedy, _he thought bitterly. Perhaps it had taken the edge off of his own headache, and he shuddered to think of what he would feel like without it.

He took in the sight of the unmade bed. The pillow with the tatted lace trim still bore the imprint of the place where he head had been. He'd placed a kiss on her forehead as he'd left the note on the table next to her, and she had hardly stirred. Her words in the passageway had startled him, yet he knew they were true: _I would have given you everything. _How different would this day have begun if she'd been awake when he returned to her room? If he had spent the night with her, what would she have said to him today? Would she still be here, maybe even in his arms at this moment? The thought was both thrilling and devastating. _I have gone about this wrong, somehow,_ he thought. He needed to think of a way out.

Diego crumpled the note and sighed. His own bed was calling. His heart was heavy, his mind was dull, and he could think of nothing to right the situation. Usually when he faced a puzzle or problem, an answer would begin to form in his head after a short time considering it. No matter how dark the well of trouble he'd fallen into he could always manage to clever his way out. _Victoria,_ he moaned to himself. _What do I do?_ The weight of her anger was pulling him down faster than he could climb.

**-Z-**

The door to the office of the alcalde was closed, so Don Alejandro took a moment to knock.

"Come!" came the terse answer. The white-haired caballero pushed the door open and strode inside the office.

"Don Alejandro. What brings you to town?" Alcalde Iganacio de Soto was seated behind his ornate wooden desk. A sheaf of parchment lay before him, still blank, and he was mindlessly twirling a quill with his fingers. His jacket hung from the chair and his shirt was unbuttoned in an uncharacteristically casual manner.

"Ignacio," said Don Alejandro, returning the casual greeting. "I'm here to claim the body of my son."

There was silence for a moment. de Soto placed the quill in the inkwell and leaned back in his chair. "It's in the cuartel. He is yours for the taking. I assume you mean to bury him today?" de Soto asked, stroking his beard.

"Tonight, yes. There is to be a mass at nine. I would be honored if you would join us," said Don Alejandro.

de Soto raised an eyebrow. "Is it usual to have the killer of the deceased present for the funeral mass?"

Don Alejandro bristled but did not allow the comment to provoke him. "You saved my son's life, and for that I am grateful. You are welcome in my home always." He turned to leave, but stopped when the alcalde cleared his throat.

"There is one other matter that has been weighing on my mind since yesterday afternoon," said de Soto. He steepled his fingers and pressed his fingers to his lips before speaking. "I happened to see your son-your _surviving_ son-do a fair bit of fencing against the deceased one. Of course, I was some distance away, but it was remarkable to behold. Now, I'm not one to gossip-"

"-Get to the point, Ignacio," said Don Alejandro sharply. He was immediately uncomfortable with this conversation.

"I only mean to say that it is possible that certain. . . _possibilities _have presented themselves to me." de Soto's gaze was steady and his tone unmistakable.

Don Alejandro narrowed his eyes at the white-haired man seated in the ornately carved chair. "What are you suggesting, sir?"

Ignacio de Soto smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "I think you know."

Don Alejandro shook his head and folded his arms. "I do not. My son Diego took fencing lessons in Spain when he was at university. The same university you attended, if memory serves. He is able to defend himself the same as anyone else who attended the University of Madrid."

Ignacio tipped his head to the side, thoughtfully, but did not look convinced. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"What, then, are you implying?" demanded Don Alejandro. "You might as well just say it!"

"I think your son, Diego de la Vega, has been anything but forthcoming with us," do Soto sneered. "I think what I saw in your garden yesterday was quite the familiar sight to the residents of Los Angeles." He reached forward and plucked the quill from the inkwell. "In fact, I was just about to compose a letter to the provincial governor about this little matter when you interrupted me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about, de Soto," snapped Don Alejandro. "The only thing you saw yesterday was my son fighting for his life. Fighting to protect me, after that mad man tried to kill us all!"

"Fighting for his life, indeed. Yes. I'll keep that in mind as I compose my letter," said de Soto coolly.

The caballero on the other side of the desk huffed derisively. "de Soto, if there is something you mean to say to me, _say it,_" demanded Alejandro.

"You put on a nice show, de la Vega. I have been impressed with your acting skills-both yours and your son's." He chuckled to himself. "Well, Diego always was a lover of the theatre. I suppose it runs in the family." He stroked his cheek with the feather of the quill and sneered. "He'll be needing to give the performance of a lifetime once the governor receives my letter."

Don Alejandro placed both hands on the broad expanse of the alcalde's desk and leaned over it. "Are you threatening my son?" he hissed.

"Threatening? Oh, no. I'm done with threats. I am only a humble public servant informing you of the inevitable."

"You are despicable," seethed the older don. "You are a desperate, deluded, _cowardly _man of low reputation. I don't know what this letter is you think you're writing, but I'll have you know that my son and I do not take kindly to slander."

de Soto chuckled. "You play the part of the loyal father well, Don Alejandro."

Don Alejandro pushed back from the desk and waved his arm. "It's not an act. I have the truth on my side! Diego has done nothing wrong!"

de Soto leaned back in his chair and smirked. "He'll hang before the week's end, de la Vega. Mark my words."

Don Alejandro muttered a curse under his breath and stormed from the alcalde's office, slamming the door behind him so hard that it shook the frame of the building.

**-Z-**

For Victoria the day had been, in a word, dreadful.

Victoria had arrived at the tavern much later than she had intended-by more than twelve hours, to be exact. Pilar and the girls had served lunch, but cleaning up after lunch was apparently reserved for Victoria alone. The kitchen was in complete disarray, with dirty dishes stacked high in the dry sink, on the counter, and even on the floor. Vegetable scraps and peels were heaped in a pile on the table, surrounded by dirty knives, pans, and bowls. A pot had boiled dry over the fire and filled the air with a peculiar ashy smell. Crumbs and drips littered the tables in the taproom, and empty bottles showed evidence of Pilar pouring much more generously than Victoria would have allowed. Victoria pressed her palms to her face after surveying the scene. Her headache had lessened, but the ache in her heart was worse than ever. Yet she couldn't allow herself the luxury of climbing into bed to nurse it, because there was simply too much to do.

The ride from the de la Vega hacienda had been blisteringly hot. She had hurried directly from the cave, through the hacienda, and out to the stables where a sleepy-looking groom had hitched the horse to her cart. She had climbed into her seat before he could even offer assistance and snapped the reins on the unsuspecting horses' hindquarters immediately. She had also glanced over her shoulder several times. _Are you expecting him to ride after you? _she chided herself. He'd let her pass through the fireplace into the library with no comment; the look on his face had been one of heartbreak, but one that satisfied her deeply.

As much as she longed for a hot bath and a long sleep, she couldn't afford them now, because there was a kitchen to mend before dinner. The sun had already started to slant westward by the time she had finished washing dishes sufficient to serve the dinner crowd. She had set the scalded pot to soak outside and lit a bundle of sage to sweeten the air. The counters had been scrubbed and the floors swept, but dinner tonight would be a simple _arroz con pollo_, something that she typically served at lunch. There was simply no time for anything else.

The dinner crowd had just begun to amble into the tavern when Victoria saw Felipe appear in the doorway. She saw his large brown eyes scan the room and settle on her before he entered. _He sends Felipe to do his dirty work_, she thought, annoyed. She set down the tray she had been holding and placed her hands on the bar. Felipe approached shyly and then pulled a folded paper from his sash, handing it to her without looking her in the eyes.

"Thank you, Felipe. Are you thirsty?" she asked. He nodded and she reached behind the bar for a glass. It was difficult for Victoria to maintain an air of nonchalance knowing that the teenaged boy before her had been present at dinner the night before, that he'd seen her crying in Zorro's cave this morning. That part of the day felt like a strange dream, the kind that left one confused and groggy for long time after waking. _I wonder what he thinks of me_, she thought, biting her lip and she poured lemonade in the glass. _I can't let him see that I'm bothered by what he knows._ This interaction would be practice for her for that inevitable time when she saw _him_ again.

"I will be right back," she said, and slipped into the kitchen to read the note. _He doesn't want to face me himself so he writes notes like a schoolboy. How typical,_ she thought derisively. But when she unfolded the note, she found it was not Diego's fluid and graceful hand but rather his father's spidery script. She read the note with a furrowed brow and then refolded it before dropping it into the fire. She stood for moment, watching it burn, considering what she should do.

Had Diego been the one who'd asked she would have refused. But the older de la Vega was the one who had written to ask if she would please join them tonight at the mission for a funeral for his son, Gilberto. Victoria would go, but only because of her respect for the older don. He had been a dear friend of her father's and he had always treated her with such kindness. She swallowed down a tightness in her throat at the thought of the grief of losing a child, even if the child had been gained and lost in the space of just a few moments.

Victoria smoothed her hair, straightened her skirts, and slipped through the curtain back into the tap room. Felipe had drained the lemonade and now stood quietly, observing the tables that were filling with hungry customers. He watched her approach the bar with his quiet brown eyes.

"Tell Don Alejandro I will be there," she said softly. Felipe gave her a small smile and a nod to show he understood. He reached into his sash for a coin but Victoria smiled and waved it away.

"The lemonade was on the house," she said, and tapped his nose with her finger. _There, _she thought to herself. _Anyone watching would think that things are now as they've always been. _ There would be no reason for anyone to suspect that anything unusual had happened at the de la Vega hacienda last night. Felipe gave her another nod and touched his chest, and then turned to go. She watched the young man slip out of the tavern, ever graceful and light on his feet, and sighed as she pulled a tray from underneath the bar to carry glasses to the waiting customers. There would be no early bedtime for her, and no reprieve from facing the de la Vegas. The dreadful day promised to become an endlessly long night.

****  
><strong>TBC<strong>


End file.
